


Good Morning

by Griddlebone



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Blanket Fic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mirosanta 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griddlebone/pseuds/Griddlebone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sango and Miroku spend a night sharing a blanket, with predictable consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

> A giftfic for ScribeFigaro for MiroSanta 2015.

Darkness had fallen by the time Sango was able to get back to the well. To the place where the well had been. The well itself was still missing, disappeared into the meidou with Inuyasha and Kagome. The normally lush landscape that had surrounded the structure was now barren and gray, lifeless after the torrent of miasma that had rained down over the area in Naraku's final moments. The only sign of life was the small figure huddling near the slight dip in the ground that was the only real indication of where the well had been.

"Shippou," Sango said softly, more to announce her presence than anything else. What could she say to him that would make any of this better? She felt hollow inside, exhausted in body and mind. She had been grateful for all the work that needed doing at the village, because keeping her hands busy was the best way to keep her mind distracted. Working alongside her brother and her intended husband all day had been a balm for her weary soul. But now the day's work was done and she had felt an irresistible pull back to this place.

"Do you think they'll ever come back?" Shippou asked forlornly. Sango sat down beside him and had no answers to offer. She certainly _hoped_ that their friends would return, but she could not know whether that was likely or even possible. All she could do was hope, and be there for this lonely child.

They had been sitting in silence together long enough for the moon to rise when Miroku found them. Sango was half dozing where she sat when the familiar metallic ringing from the staff he carried roused her. She rose to greet him, but her attention was almost immediately drawn to his right hand, as it had been all day. Gone were the wounds of shouki and the kazaana, and with them the prayer beads and gauntlet that had sealed his cursed hand for all the time she had known him. At long last, Miroku was free.

Sango did not yet know what this would mean for their future, but for now it was enough that both of them were alive. The moonlight gentled the look of exhaustion that was so evident on his face. The mere sight of this man was enough to ease her heart. If only it were so easy for Shippou.

Miroku offered her a small smile before taking her place beside Shippou. Sango waited uncertainly, unsure of what he wanted her to do. For now, he ignored her. "You've been keeping watch all day, haven't you, Shippou?" he asked gently. Shippou nodded. "Why don't you go back to Kaede's and get some dinner and some rest?" Miroku went on. Before Shippou could protest, he added, "Sango and I will watch over the well tonight, but we'll need you to take over in the morning."

It was as smoothly done as any of the times Sango had seen him charm an innkeeper out of a night's room and board, and Shippou was tired and hungry enough to be on his way back to the village without much more fuss. He trusted them to keep his vigil as he would have trusted no one else. Sango watched him go and wondered if Miroku was really planning to spend the night in the forest keeping watch over a well that wasn't there.

Knowing Miroku, she had expected him to have something very different planned for his first night free of the kazaana. She had even been looking forward to that, but as he came to stand beside her now, the two of them alone under the moonlight, she felt suddenly shy. They had made promises together, never thinking to arrive at the day when they might have to uphold those promises.

_ "Will you live with me and bear my child?" _

__ __ _ "I will!" _

The weight of that remembered promise hung thick in the air. Their enemy was dead at last. The cursed void in Miroku's palm was gone, no longer a threat to his life, and Sango's brother was safe, her family avenged. Their life together could finally begin.

He was standing so close that she could easily lean against him. Alone as they were, she saw no reason to resist that desire. The feeling of his arms around her was the most natural thing in the world. All of her fears from the past months slipped away as she leaned into the solid living warmth that was Miroku.

"It's really over now," he murmured, pressing his face against her hair. It sounded like he didn't quite believe it. She could hardly believe it, herself.

"Yes," she breathed. She turned, wanting to see his face, and he took advantage of the motion to pull her flush against him. Heat flooded through her, along with a giddy, uneasy excitement. His hands were on her bottom, holding her firmly against him, and his face was only a breath away from hers. Before nerves could get the better of her, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.

Not too long ago, she had kissed him goodbye in the depths of her despair, thinking she might never see him again in this world. This second kiss was sweeter by far than the first. All the bitterness had gone, leaving only deep relief and breathless, unrestrained joy. She opened her mouth to him, letting him deepen the kiss to an almost painful sweetness, and would have happily stayed there in his arms forever.

But when he pulled away to smile at her, she could already feel sleep tugging at her. It felt only natural to loop her arms around his neck and sag against him, bury her face against his shoulder. She could hardly believe this was really happening. There had been many times today when she had been sure she would lose everything, and that the best she could hope for would be to die with Miroku. By comparison this moment seemed all the more precious.

Miroku was a warm solidity against her now, and he held her every bit as fiercely as she clung to him. "Can we stay here like this tonight?" she asked. Somehow the thought of going back to the village, even with the promise of a roof over her head and a mat to sleep on, had lost its appeal. She knew that they should go back, in spite of the promise Miroku had made to Shippou. The others would be worried about them after everything that had happened today. She should spend time with her brother, now that he was safe at last.

But she had already made up her mind: if this was where Miroku was, this was where she would be tonight. The rest could wait for tomorrow.

His fingers under her chin tipped her head up so he could kiss her again. He paused an instant before his lips touched hers, leaving her in eager anticipation, to say, "I had hoped you would say that."

When he finally pressed his lips to hers, it was a soft and gentle kiss, with none of the fierce neediness she had expected. He took his time, not tentative but thorough.

He broke off the kiss far more quickly than she would have liked and stepped away. She waited, watching as he deftly undid the knots that held his kesa in place, finding it oddly difficult to concentrate beyond the desire to kiss him again and again.

He draped the kesa over her shoulders like a blanket, and used this as an excuse to tug her in for another kiss. She melted against him, enjoying the warmth and closeness entirely too much. After everything that had happened today, surely this was heaven.

This time she was the one to stop kissing him. She let her head rest against his shoulder to hide a yawn.

He chuckled softly, sounding every bit as tired as Sango felt. She did not resist as he sank down to sit with her folded in his arms, the kesa wrapped carefully around her. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so safe and comfortable and happy. She breathed deep the scent of him, and sleep overtook her in moments.

~

Sango awoke in the dim light before dawn, her head aching for the want of more sleep but her body very much awake. And very much aware that she had just for the first time spent the night in the arms of the man she loved.

She opened her eyes to find that Miroku was already awake, lying stretched out on his side beside her, with his head propped up on one hand so he could watch her. With the other hand he idly traced designs over her arm and shoulder. It was this that had slowly awakened her, the gently moving caress across her arm and over her shoulder and back again.

"Sleep well?" he asked.

"Mmm."

He leaned in to kiss her, slow and deep and relaxed, and Sango reflected that this might not be a bad way to wake up every day. Snuggled up to Miroku, just the two of them, with a warm blanket wrapped around them both. She couldn't think of anything better. It seemed, however, that Miroku could.

He continued to kiss her, thoroughly demonstrating that he had lost none of last night's enthusiasm. Sango all but melted into it. She did not have a lot of experience with kissing, but Miroku seemed more than willing to give her all the practice she could ever need. Not that she was complaining. She felt truly relaxed for the first time in ages, and for now she just wanted to enjoy the feeling of being near him. And kissing him.

It was difficult to concentrate when Miroku's mouth was so insistent against her lips, the line of her jaw, her neck, lower… and when her body's response to these actions was even more insistent. She wanted…

She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, only that Miroku's attentions were very nice, but not _enough_. She wanted his hands on every inch of her, she decided, not just those parts that were not covered by her clothing. Or maybe it was his mouth she wanted on her body, or some combination of the two. Yes, she thought, that would be best. If only she could find the right words to tell him.

She gave up on words, choosing instead to grip Miroku's clothes with both hands. Not only was this tactile proof that she wasn't dreaming all of this, that he was really here, but it made it much easier to direct him exactly where she wanted him.

There – exactly the right spot. He chuckled when he realized what she was doing, his breath hot and enticing against her neck. Sango shuddered. It was just a breath, how could it do such astonishing things to her? All thoughts of a quiet, relaxing morning were fading in the face of desire for more. Much more.

She knew what sex entailed, in idea if not in practice, but somehow she had not expected it to feel quite like this before Miroku had even touched her. The sense of anticipation was shocking in its intensity, desire slowly overwhelming all her other thoughts. Her clothing had become intolerably confining over the course of the past few minutes. The blanket that had only a few minutes ago felt so warm and comforting now felt as if it might smother her. Had she ever _physically_ wanted something this much? It didn't seem possible.

Tense heat twisted at the apex of her thighs, demanding release.

Yes, the clothes would have to go.

She frowned when she realized that in order to correct this problem, she would have to let go of him.

"Is something wrong, Sango?" Miroku asked in a tone that told her full well he was teasing.

She let go of him to fling the blanket aside and begin working on the ties of her apron. He watched avidly, as if disbelieving, while she did this. Once she had wriggled her way free of that first garment, he seemed suddenly inclined to help. She let him tend to the ties that kept her kosode in place, focusing instead on the exquisite excitement she was feeling.

Miroku was almost reverent as he opened her kosode. She shrugged the rest of the way out of the garment while he turned his attention to her underclothes. Undershirt and underskirt quickly followed the kosode, along with her arm-guards. She had resolved not to bother with the shin guards, but Miroku was determined to see her wearing nothing at all, and took the necessary few moments to kneel beside her and remove them.

He seemed almost entranced as he beheld her, like he could not quite look away. She blushed, feeling suddenly nervous at being laid out before him wearing nothing at all, wondering if perhaps she ought to at least try to cover herself or display an appropriate level of modesty. But the truth was, she very much liked the way he was looking at her just now.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed.

For a moment she wondered if he intended to do anything other than stare at her.

At last he seemed to realize that this was not a dream - she really was there with him. She didn't blame him for disbelieving. It seemed unreal even to her. And yet she knew it had to be real. There was no way she could simply be dreaming the way it felt when he finally reached forward and touched her, his hand brushing her hip in the gentlest of caresses before gliding upward.

That hand slid over the curve of her waist, brushing gently against her breast as he moved to recline beside her again, finally coming up to cup her face so he could draw her close for a kiss. She sighed happily, opening herself to the kiss. And while she was thus distracted, that hand of his slid back down her body to rest gently just above the place where her thighs met, fingers brushing the hair there. Anticipation mounted – what would it feel like when _he_ touched her there, at long last?

None of that anticipation was lost on Miroku, who stopped kissing her so he could look down her body to where his hand rested so close to her most intimate place. It seemed to matter a great deal to him that he was touching her now with a hand that was whole and uncovered, free from the curse of the kazaana.

Fully aware of how avidly he was watching, she opened her legs to him and took his hand in hers, guiding it further down. He explored her flesh slowly, gently, as if he wished to learn every inch of her by touch alone. He ran his fingers along her outer and inner labia before dipping one finger down to her very core, where she was already so wet. He thoroughly coated that finger in her juices before drawing it slowly upward to circle her clit.

She expected that he would focus his attention there, but he seemed perfectly happy only to tease her. He slid that finger back down without ever directly touching her clit, parting her labia to enter her. She sucked in a breath, surprised at how eagerly her body welcomed such an intimate touch. He withdrew his finger, drawing the tip up to briefly stroke her clit before repeating the caress. He did this several times, teasing her, working her until his fingers were slick with her cream.

Sounds escaped her throat as he continued his exploration. Small, gentle sounds of pleasure, and at first this embarrassed her because she did not make such sounds when she pleasured herself, but now, with his hand on her body, she could not seem to quiet them. When she realized the effect those sounds had on Miroku, the way he watched with all his attention, the way his breath caught ever so slightly when she did something he found particularly arresting, her embarrassment faded and became curiosity instead. What else could she do that might also affect him in new and intriguing ways?

She moved her hips against his hand, pressing into the caress, angling her hips to take his finger all the way inside her, as deep as it would go. He inhaled sharply.

She made a rhythm of it, rocking her hips up and down along the length of his finger. After several strokes, Miroku moved not his hand, but his torso, propping himself up with his left arm so he could kiss her. She eagerly opened her mouth to him, the sensation of his tongue in her mouth sending jolts all the way to her core and distracting her from the sudden giddy realization that _she was fucking Houshi-sama's hand_. The hand that just yesterday was very nearly the cause of his death was now the very same hand that brought her so much pleasure.

He broke off the kiss suddenly, watching avidly as she moved against his hand. Grinning deviously as he added a second finger. She grasped his face with both hands, forcing his gaze away from where his hand was caressing her most intimate place so that she could kiss him again.

She began to move more quickly as pleasure mounted. With his thumb he had been tracing light circles over her vulva, stroking her labia, circling her clitoris but never quite touching it in the direct way she wanted him to. He brushed that most sensitive spot now, when her languid strokes had become sharp, needy thrusts, seeking and, with some experimentation, finding exactly the right spot. The spot that made her cry out, gasping against his mouth.  The spot that made her hands grasp helplessly at his clothing, anything to anchor herself to him as pleasure seared through her.

He stroked that spot relentlessly, working his fingers inside her at the same time until she could do nothing but succumb to the overwhelming sensation and climax spectacularly.

It was only when she heard him say her name and felt his lips against her neck that she realized she'd broken off the kiss. She lay there bonelessly, breathing deep as relaxation flowed through her.

His fingers made a wet noise as he withdrew his hand. Sango had not meant to watch as raptly as she did, but somehow watching him lick her essence from his fingers as if it were the most delicious taste he had ever encountered was the most erotic thing she had ever seen. She couldn't seem to look away until she realized he had noticed and was grinning at her.

This time when he kissed her, she tasted herself on his lips and tongue – a strange, but not altogether unpleasant sensation. And this time when he kissed her she decided it was past time for his clothes to be out of the way.

He submitted to her eagerly, letting her do the work of finding and undoing the knots that secured his clothing while amusement and pleasure danced in his eyes. She felt nervous, almost silly, undressing him like this, a feeling that faded into outright apprehension when she realized she was about to see him without clothing for the first time.

She was almost afraid to look at him, but not out of any sort of virginal shyness. The frighteningly visible wounds of shouki had disappeared from his hand along with the kazaana, but a part of her still feared that she would see the scars extending up his arm, reaching perilously close to his heart. If she looked, she might discover that his recovery had been nothing more than hope.

But when she finally dared to look there was no denying that the shouki wounds had vanished without leaving so much as a single scar. Miroku's body was whole, unmarred. Sango pressed a kiss to his shoulder, where the shouki had once come so close to reaching his heart. She kissed her way along his collarbone, which made his breath catch in a very fascinating way, before finally moving to kiss his mouth.

He rolled onto his back, tugging her with him so that she lay on top of him, legs straddling his hips. She had not gotten far enough in undressing him to remove the loincloth he wore, but even so she could feel his excitement straining against the cloth to press against her.

His hands trailed slowly down her back to grasp her buttocks, squeezing and kneading with such obvious delight that she almost laughed aloud.

Those same hands urged her to shift forward so that he could reach her breasts with his mouth. He pressed his face into the space between for a moment, a space that seemed perfectly designed for such a purpose, while she braced herself with her forearms. Focusing first on one side, he nuzzled her breast and trailed open-mouthed kisses over her flesh until he at last took her nipple into his mouth. With lips and tongue he teased her until the nipple grew taut, and she was thoroughly surprised by how much she enjoyed it when he nipped gently at that hardened bud with his teeth.

But when she pressed into him, wanting more and more and more, he abruptly switched to the other side, where he repeated the entire process. Just when she thought she knew what to expect, however, he surprised her. He released his hold on her buttocks, sliding one hand up across her abdomen to cup the breast he was not currently attending to. The other hand he slipped between her legs, stroking urgently across and around her clit until she was trembling against him on the brink of another climax.

It seemed somehow unfair that she should come twice before she had even managed to get him fully undressed, but he was very determined and she was _so close_. For a moment she thought to resist, to hold out as long as possible, but then he withdrew his hand and there was no avoiding it. She hated him a little, then, for denying her what she really wanted, but his hands glided eagerly over her waist and hips to grasp her butt again, urging her forward again.

"Miroku," she began, uncertain of exactly what he wanted her to do.

At his continued urging she moved forward on hands and knees, stepping over his shoulders until she was kneeling with her thighs straddling his face.

"Perfect," he murmured.

She felt her face go bright red. That he should say something like that while looking directly at that part of her...

Mortification turned to vaguely horrified curiosity as he nudged her legs just a bit further apart and then fled altogether as he buried his face between her thighs.

"Miroku, what are you -" The rest of the question went right out of her head as his tongue caressed her labia, licked its way to her clit. "Oh."

What he had done a few moments ago with his hand, he did now with his lips and tongue.

"Oh," she repeated, inhaling sharply as his tongue lapped firmly at her clit. She had never felt a sensation quite like this, so warm and wet and unrelenting in the pursuit of her pleasure.

She was vaguely aware that she was making incoherent sounds, that her hips were moving against his face, but he held her tight and wouldn't let her move too much. She gasped, shuddering. Had he just sucked on her clit? Yes, she decided, that must be what he had done to create such a delicious sensation.

And that careful pressure on her clit just before he flicked his tongue over it again, was that his teeth?

She soon lost track of exactly what he was doing, losing herself in the sheer pleasure of his lips and tongue on the most sensitive parts of her body. She climaxed almost before she realized it was happening, before she could give him any warning, nearly collapsing on top of him as her whole body shuddered forcefully.

Miroku's hands steadied her, keeping her from falling on top of him, his tongue lapping up her essence as if his life depended on it. When at last the euphoria began to fade, he urged her to one side, and moved with her as she rolled off of him so that he was kneeling between her spread legs. She let her head tip back, her eyes falling shut while she caught her breath.

When she opened her eyes again several moments later, she saw that Miroku had divested himself of the loincloth. She pouted slightly at this. She had wanted to do that, revealing him fully the way he had done for her. Since he had denied her that opportunity, she would just have to take matters into her own hands.

He nearly choked when she sat up and took his cock in her hand. She'd expected to feel at least a little more awkward about this, but in reality it made her feel just a bit wicked to have such an obviously potent effect upon him. His arousal was obvious in the way his cock jutted so eagerly from his groin, long and hot and hard and yearning to fill her up, but also in the way he responded so powerfully to even her slightest touch.

She took several moments to explore his anatomy with both hands, aware that she was sitting awkwardly with her legs still splayed open. She knew she ought to at least consider sitting more modestly, or at least less wantonly, but in truth she rather liked the way his gaze seemed to be drawn to her womanhood. His intense focus on her body and what she was doing with her hands made her bolder than she might otherwise have been.

She spread her legs a little wider, pumped his shaft with one hand and reached down to gently fondle his testicles with the other hand, exploring his anatomy as thoroughly as he had hers. He was breathing hard now, and he could seem to do nothing but watch her hands as she worked him. Soon she could see clear fluid gathering at the tip of his erection. A few more strokes and she judged the moment was right: "I want you inside me this time."

He surged toward her, then. Giggling, giddy with a sudden rush of excitement, she let him lower her to the ground beneath him.

Had she really just said that she wanted him inside her? Had she truly said such a thing out loud? She must have, because he was doing exactly what she wanted.

Her cheeks heated, heart racing as he propped himself up with one arm and used the other hand to guide his cock inside her. The sensation was not entirely unpleasant. She was so wet that he slid easily inside, stretching her, filling her to the very brim.

He gave a shuddering sigh, along with a sound that might have been a moan deep in his throat, as he pressed all the way inside her. "Ah, Sango," he murmured.

She would not have believed it possible, but she blushed even harder just from the tone of his voice. This man was not inexperienced with women, and she had never seen him so obviously affected before. Knowing that _she_ was the cause of this strained intensity was enough to make her grow tense with desire all over again. Knowing that a part of him was _inside her_ , and that part of him seemed to fit her with a nearly unbelievable perfection…

At last he moved, drawing nearly all the way out of her, so that only the head of his cock was still inside her, before pushing back in. Slowly at first, and then faster, he repeated this motion, making the most intriguing sounds and drawing quiet moans from her. The way he filled her so completely, so perfectly, was even more pleasurable than the way he had used his fingers and mouth to bring her to orgasm before.

He grunted when she planted her feet on the ground, using the extra leverage to help her meet him thrust for thrust, driving him deeper and deeper inside her with each stroke. Urging him to move faster, harder.

 _Do you like it?_ She wanted to ask. _Does it feel good?_ The answer was obvious just looking at him, but a part of her wanted to goad him, wanted to hear him try to tell her exactly how good her body was making him feel right now. She wanted to hear every sharp intake of breath as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him beyond speech. But in the end all she could think to say was a breathy, "Ah!" as he hit exactly the right spot.

He shifted, resting his weight more heavily on his left arm, adjusting the angle of his hips so his right hand, that treacherous hand, could reach down between them to work her clit. Her back arched sharply, her whole body trembling at the onslaught of sensation. And then he bent his head down, his breath hot against her as he nipped at her earlobe and whispered, "Come for me, Sango. One more time."

That easily, she was undone.

As if at his command, she climaxed, helpless to stop it, crying out in exquisite pleasure as her whole body grew taut. Her hips jerked against him, she could feel her inner muscles gripping his cock as if to pull him deeper inside, and still his fingers stroked and teased at her clit, relentless, drawing every last drop of pleasure out of her. She clung to him, gasping, moaning, until at last the sensation of ecstasy ebbed away and she could begin to catch her breath.

Only when he was certain that she was fully satisfied did Miroku cease his attentions to her clit, bringing his arm back up to help support himself. He had slowed the motion of his hips to a gentle rocking, though a glance at his face told her this was difficult for him.

"Faster," she breathed. "Harder."

"Sango?" he sounded almost surprised.

She rolled her hips for emphasis. "I want you to climax inside me," she said with perfect calm, though a part of her was shocked at her own audacity.

He grinned in a giddy, disbelieving sort of way. "I would not want to disappoint you," he told her, sounding satisfyingly breathless.

To his credit, he did exactly as she had asked. He built up speed with each stroke until he had achieved the rhythm he wanted, thrusting hard against her hips. Realizing that she had gripped him tightly with her legs during her own climax, Sango consciously opened them wider now, allowing him more access.

His breath came in short bursts now, in and out almost in time with the movement of his hips. Sango watched avidly, trailing her hands over his back and shoulders, sliding them down to grip his buttocks. She found that with some concentration she could grip down on his cock the way she had during her orgasm, and she attempted this now, drawing from him a sound that was very nearly a growl as she did so.

His movements became more erratic, harder. She could not only see, but _feel_ the tension mounting in him as he drew closer and closer to his release.

"Yes," she murmured, and, "Yes."

He sucked in a sharp breath, grunting, moaning, thrusting into her hard once and again and again and again until he was spent, all of that glorious tension leaving his body as he spent his seed inside her. Sango watched him through all of this, as his expression verged on agony before shifting to quiet bliss.

He did not pull out of her immediately, but slowly grew still. She held him close, relishing the moment of union and shared pleasure. He breathed out a long sigh and let his forehead rest against hers, his eyes drifting closed.

They stayed like that for several long moments, letting the heat of passion cool. Sango was increasingly aware of the sweat that clung to her breasts and the small of her back, of their combined fluids between her legs, and felt a sudden desire for a long, cool bath. Maybe, she thought, she and Miroku ought to plan a trip to the river later this morning.

"Someone will be coming to check on us soon." Miroku pointed it out right about the same time it occurred to Sango. The soft dimness of dawn had by now become full morning light and it was indeed likely that someone would be coming along at any moment.

He rolled off her with a grin, but was in no hurry to get dressed. Instead he watched her gather her clothes and begin to dress herself, sighing almost sadly as she covered herself with underskirt and undershirt and pulled her kosode into place on top. She couldn't help a smile and a slight giggle at his expense.

Taking this as his cue, he too finally got up and got dressed. To herself, she could admit that she was a little sad to see him cover up that lovely, masculine body of his, the body that had recently brought her so very much pleasure, and which would no doubt do so again at the soonest opportunity. And since that thought had her blushing and thinking things that would only result in a repeat of this morning's performance, she turned away to finish dressing.

She had just finished tying her apron back on when she heard the sound of someone approaching through the trees. That would be Shippou, she knew, coming to see if anything had happened during the night or if there was any sign of their friends. She flushed all over again, realizing just how easily she and Miroku might have been caught in the act. It had not occurred to her in the moment, but now…

Miroku chuckled, a throaty, thoroughly satisfied sound that only made her blush harder. "Come now, Sango, you'll give us away," he teased.

They were both entirely presentable by the time Shippou arrived, but Sango couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't fooling anyone.


End file.
